wayfarers

ooc; @Rhiannon
 

She left the Bluffs behind, taking a few days to scout along the coast of the Mountains. Whatever transpired before that, she didn't care. It was probably not important outside of information gathering. Now was the time to work her legs and rebuild her stamina. Halcyon still did not know who she had been. She was loathed to leave the coast as well, for her memories were of bubbling depths and battering winds that flicked droplets into her face. The smell of sea salt is also a constant companion — so much different than the biting winds of the Tundra.

These Moors were almost picked clean. Be it by the frost or a plant-loving beast, Halcyon noted many of the flowers were vacant. She tried to will herself to picture a vast meadow of rolling plant life but came up empty. Before her was a space she had not been to, and as much as she wanted to imagine it, she came up empty. The picture in her mind flickered to life only to be faded and eventually dark. So it was easy to spy the woman, sleeping almost soundly among the foliage. Her coat was pale and highlighted with a natural lilac. Though they were more prominent on her stockings.

"Hey," she said, approaching just as the woman seemed to become alert. Halcyon stopped when she lifted her head, one leg raised as if she was tempted to move forward. She wasn't quite sure what to say to them. Strangers were empty and also full of potential. "I don't suppose you woke up here just now?" She decided, in the end, to be upfront "like, not in the sense you took a nap and just woke up again. As in this place is unfamiliar to you?"

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╔.★. .

she dreams, as always, of a garden.

beneath the glow of the stars, all manner of flowers bloom; from pale lilacs to fragrant lavenders, from bundles of hyacinths to towering wisteria - an abundance of purples and blues, speckled throughout with whites and greens. a soft breeze rolls through, bringing with it the sweet scent of life. it ruffles through her fur and rustles the leaves of the plants around her, and in this moment, rhiannon could live forever.

but she knows it's a dream. knows, is keenly aware, that at some point, you just
 
have to

 wake up.

---

 
she comes to life beneath the sun, a flower blooming; reaching, always, for the warm light above, for the grace of dawn to shine upon her.

( but she knows, despite herself, that she belongs to the dusk, to the dark. )
 
there's a soreness in her muscles, a deep seated ache that speaks of agony and exhaustion, of pleading cries fallen on deaf ears and teeth sunken within her flesh. there's the phantom feel of them, a pressure beneath her skin that has her shuddering, a fine tremor running throughout her frame without her say-so. she can almost feel the warmth of those jaws clamped about her nape, the wet slick of saliva against her fur; and, too, the puffs of his breath brushing through her ruff, the rancid taste of his pleasure and the iron tang of blood.

pale eyelids shutter, shiver - open, then, to the too-bright lights of the sun above.

she was, once, a delicate, beautiful flower. but now she feels as if all her petals are withered and dry, one touch away from shuddering into dust.

rhiannon forces her eyes shut once more. breathes in, out, and again -

---

she dreams, this time, of her mother. her voice, soft and sweet, silken as the petals of the flower she was named for, as she told rhiannon stories of the past; of their home, long lost to time, and the legends that had followed the destruction and birthed the reign of the Three. as a pup, she'd listened, raptured - in awe of the tapestry of tales her mother wove, of wolves forever immortalized in history.

she wished, once, to be one of them - to be spoken of in hushed, whispered tones, even decades after her soul had moved on from this world. knows, now, that there are many ways one can be spoken of, and she'd rather not have anyone speak of her at all, in the end.

she wished now to fade into obscurity, a nameless figure unknown to all. a background character to the stories of the past.

she dreams of her father, tall and broad, a warrior in his own right. she dreams of the way he'd been, Before, when he'd curl around her as if shielding her from the world outside with his own body. she once thought that he could, would, protect her from anything.

but in the end - in the end...

breathe in.

hold.
 
breathe out.

---

wakes, again, to the midday sun.

her mind feels fuzzy, her head full of cotton;

blank.

she looks up, and finds herself buried beneath a thin layer of snow. confusion grows within her chest - was it snowing when she went to sleep?

how long has she been sleeping?

periwinkle eyes roam across the field, searching; for what, she does not know. something familiar, something that pings within her mind as recognition takes hold. something that resonates, fills the empty gaps where memory should be.

but there is nothing; nothing but snow and rolling hills of greenery, greyed skies and the scent of something clean, sharp.

she looks down at herself and half expects to see blood. blinks, and finds only her own fur - shaded in pale lilacs of merled marks and swathes of white. there is no red to be seen.

the inhale she takes then is shuddering, and with the full awakening of her mind comes the chill of the cold, biting sharp into her flesh and deep into her bones. her fur is thick, insulated against the cold - at least, normally. but she can remember - it was summer, when she'd gone to sleep, and her coat had been shedding then to thin against the heat. but here, now, it was winter - and her pelt far too thin in the moment to provide any sort of protection from the cold.

how long was i asleep?

she wonders, eyeing the drifting snowflakes as they fall to rest upon her paws. and too, she could've sworn she'd laid to rest in her den, upon her soft nest of moss and dried petals.

what's going on?

she hears, then, the rustle of grass and snow; rhiannon turns her head, and locks eyes with another.

"what?" she says, faintly, indelicately. it takes a moment for her mind to process the words said to her, and once she does, she perks up a tad.

"i - i have, in fact. er, it is." she blinks. "i mean - forgive me. yes, i have just awoken here, and this place is very unfamiliar." she eyes the snow once more. "i could've sworn it was summer when i fell asleep."
 

. .★.╝

---

note: sorry for the horrid post i'm trying to get into the swing of writing her.

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Snow continued to fall and continued to not be a burden. It was a faint fall, not heavy, and definitely not as bad as it could be. For that, she was at least thankful. The woman stumbled over herself, breaking her facade once. It was enough to notice the lack of feinted delicateness. Things weren't always what they seemed in the end. Halcyon stood rigid over the other wolf before walking backward to give them room to breathe. If so desired anyway. It was a subtle and uninteresting movement, just a quick step or two back.

It wasn't even troubling on her part, just a reflex.

"Same here," Halcyon remarked in part to what she said. The girl inclined her head somewhat "but I don't remember much before now. Just bits of things" She had hoped that approaching others would trigger some clues, but she had ended up short-ended on that plan. Waves, crashing. A great pain, blood and teeth, and clashing iron. If she knew anyone in this world, she was not aware. She'd just wait in case that happened — if it did at all "can you remember your name?" She did ask after her silence, wondering if it was a universal thing or just her.

Maybe she'd be able to figure this shit out if she met people who could give her information.

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